


Bewitched

by ShippingAllShips



Series: Tomarry/Harrymort [17]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Tom Riddle, M/M, Witch Hunters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 18:22:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17289071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippingAllShips/pseuds/ShippingAllShips
Summary: Harry Potter has been accused of witchcraft and Mister Riddle, a famous witch hunter, is called in to confirm if he truly is one. Of course, he isn't one, but that won't stop Mister Riddle from telling everyone he is...unless Harry is willing to do something for him.





	Bewitched

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact about witches I learned while researching this: they were believed to have a third nipple that the devil/familiars would nurse off of. every witch, men included. people in the 16th century all had breastfeeding fetishes CONFIRMED.

It was the third day that Harry had been within his cell when the door swung open, blinding light flooding the dark room. Weakly raising his hand to shield his eyes, he squinted at the two figures in the doorway, their forms outlined by the light behind them.

“Get up, witch,” one man ordered, his voice deep and gruff and unrecognizable to Harry’s ears. It was safe to assume he was not someone in the village, perhaps one of the many church members who had come to test him. 

Harry simply glared at the man, raising his shackled arms and clicking his wrists together. "How do you expect me to get up when I'm chained to the floor?" 

The man huffed while the other gave a short laugh, stepping into the room. He was shorter than the other man, but not by much. 

"Oh, he's got you there," he said, walking closer to Harry and he could see a set of keys in the man’s hand. The other man moved quickly, crossing the small space between them to slap Harry across the face.

"I will not have filth such as yourself speaking to me that way," he spat out and Harry glared, spitting a bit of blood out of his mouth. The man looked satisfied with that and Harry debating spitting in his eyes but decided against it. That slap had hurt and he didn’t fancy another one, especially since that one had resulted in him cutting himself on his teeth.

He remained silent as he was dragged up and his hands uncuffed, only to be redone in a much stronger chain. He found himself being dragged out of the cell and into the fresh air, hissing at the sunlight that greeted his eyes. Thankfully, no townspeople were out to greet him aside from the occasional one peeking from their homes, something he was grateful for. He didn’t think he could stand another incident with any of them without lashing out, giving them more of a reason to claim he was a witch.

He was led into a church, unsurprised to see the village elders sitting on a table that had been dragged in for this purpose, the two preachers sitting at either end, the judge sitting in the center. There was one man not sitting, leaning against the back wall despite a seat empty reserved for him. Harry could only assume that this was Mister Riddle, given the man’s imposing presence and how he carried himself, so different from everyone in the room.

He dressed strangely, Harry noted. A black leather jacket, thrown over a brown vest and a pair of black trousers, his boots made of the same material and coming up to his knees. A wide-brimmed hat, torn and faded, rested upon his head and he had a small satchel, made of the same material as his trousers. All and all, Harry thought he looked rather ridiculous, sticking out like a sore thumb beside the village elders, who wore simple tunics and tights, and the priests in their religious dressings.

“This is the witch?” Mister Riddle asked, his head tilting slightly. “He doesn’t look like much.”

Harry was mildly offended. He may not be a witch as the village was claiming, but that didn’t mean he could be insulted.

“I am not a witch,” Harry said loudly, earning a glare from the judge sitting at the center of the table. 

"Be silent, you insolent cur." The man hissed, before turning to address Mister Riddle. "Yes, this is the witch. He bewitched his cousin to dance in the town square naked and bully the younger children, as well as have several fits throughout the day, and cursed his aunt's pet to birth a two-headed dog.”

"And have you caught him in the act of witchcraft or is all of this merely speculation?" Mister Riddle asked and Harry felt a bit better that someone was rising to his defense.

The village elders hesitated, looking at one another before one spoke. “Well, we do not have definitive proof, aside from what the family has told us.”

“Have you considered that, perhaps, his family simply does not like him, seeing as all accusations were made by them? Or perhaps their son is a witch and they are doing their best to protect him?” Mister Riddle said, ignoring the frustrated look on the preacher's face. “Are there any other accusations? Perhaps you caught him in the midst of making a potion or muttering to himself, perhaps actually casting a spell?”

“Well, no, but the Dursleys are God-fearing people. They would turn over their boy if it was truly him,” the elder said, looking a bit uncomfortable. “There is a rumor that he was out in the woods with the Weasley girl, dancing about in the woods and making strange gestures, both of them half dressed. We believe he was trying to steal her innocence and coerce her to join the devil.”

“And did the families previous accusations start coming before or after he was accused of coercing her? Did you consider that she might be a witch instead of him?” Mister Riddle said and the elder opened his mouth to argue.

“I do not see the point of Mister Riddle being here- no offense, of course,” the priest interjected then, earning a hum and sharp look from Mister Riddle. “We have enough evidence to conclude that Potter is indeed a witch; he was weighed against a stack of bibles and it has shown him to be heavier-”

“Because you only put three over there!” Harry interrupted. “Any child with a brain can tell you a grown man weighs more than that!”

“Silence, witch!" the priest snapped, glaring at the man to Harry's left. "Well? I told you to gag him before you brought him here."

The man moved to do as ordered, only stopping when Mister Riddle spoke, sounding very bored.

"There's no need for that. He's by far the most entertaining thing here- no offense, of course."   
The priest glared at Mister Riddle as he stood, making his way around the table to stand before Harry. He was tall, Harry’s head only coming up to his chin, but he refused to be intimidated by Mister Riddle, meeting his dark glaze with a glare.

Mister Riddle smirked at him, one of his gloved hands reaching up to grab the bottom of Harry’s chin, forcing his head to tilt from side to side, Mister Riddle’s dark eyes assessing him.

“He’s rather dirty,” Mister Riddle observed, his thumb rubbing against the grim on Harry’s face. 

“Well, excuse me for not being prepared for company. Next time, I’ll be sure to wash all right and proper for you,” Harry said, attempting to jerk his head from the man’s grasp. The man looked amused and Harry debated spitting in his eyes. He decided against it, seeing as the man hadn’t yet accused him of anything. Yet.

Mister Riddle’s lip twitched at that. “Be sure to do so. It’s terribly hard to determine if you have a mark, covered in as much grime as you are. Wouldn’t want to falsely accuse you of a simple spot of dirt, would we?”

“Of course not. That would be unjust.”

“Indeed. Very unjust,” Mister Riddle said, turning his head to speak to the preacher, his hands not releasing Harry’s face. “You called me here to determine if he is indeed a witch, and I cannot determine so while he’s covered in filth. A bath is in order and will serve as another test. A sign of witchcraft is an aversion to water, as it burns them greatly, and would wash away their natural powers.”

He released Harry’s chin and reached into his satchel, pulling out a small bar and tossing it to a nearby judge. Harry took small delight in how the judge fumbled to catch it. “And use this as well. It will help to nullify any magic he may be using. And do wash everywhere. Witches are clever in where they will hide the source of their powers.”

*~*

Harry had never felt more violated, his skin raw and reddened by the intense scrubbing he had received, and the fact that he was forced to walk from the bath to Mister Riddle’s room with no tights or shoes had only made it worse. He felt vulnerable and exposed, tugging down on his tunic as he made his way through the village, feeling as though everyone was watching him. Waiting for him to slip up, cast a spell that he could not, and confirm their suspicions. 

They came to a stop in front of a house that Harry recognized belonging to a village elder and he was ushered within. It was a one bedroom as most houses were, simple and plain, with a roaring fire on one wall to warm the place and candles sat around to add light. There was a bed as well in the corner, with a travel bag sitting on it that undoubtedly belonged to Mister Riddle, and a table in the center of the room, where the man in question was sitting; lounging would be the more correct term, leaning on the table with one elbow on it and a gauntlet in his free hand, swirling the liquid around in it with a bored look and muttering something into the cup.

He sat up straighter when Harry was yanked further into the room to stand just in front of Mister Riddle, who set down the gauntlet down as Harry was forced to bow when the man holding his arms did. “We’ve brought him, as requested. Are you sure you don’t want one of us to stay as well, in case he tries to bewitch you?”

“No, I will be alright. I’ve done this plenty of times before and have yet to be entranced,” Mister Riddle said, waving his hand at the man. “You may go.”

The man hesitated, turning to Harry for a second to whisper in his ear, “You will do everything that is asked of you and if you disobey, you will be found guilty, understand?”

Harry glared but nodded, watching as the man gave his own nod and released Harry. He bowed once more before leaving the room, leaving Harry alone with the man who held Harry’s life in his hands.

Mister Riddle smiled at him, far too kind and friendly for a man who would be signing Harry’s death certificate. “Please, sit. Have a drink. There’s no need to be nervous if you truly are not a witch like you claim.” 

Harry glared for a moment, untrusting of the man, but still pulled the chair out and settled onto it, folding his hands neatly on his lap. The drink was ignored.

“I’m good,” Harry said and Mister Riddle frowned.

“Are you sure? You must be thirsty from being trapped in that cell all day, I doubt they gave you anything to drink.” He was right, but Harry wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. Seeing that Harry was not going to take him up on his offer, Mister Riddle shrugged, picking up his own glass and taking a large gulp.

“All right, no pleasantries then. Take off your clothes.” Harry balked at the thought of stripping, Mister Riddle noticed, quickly adding, “Witches have marks, Mister Potter. I need to check you for them.”

“I’ve already been checked,” Harry argued and Mister Riddle let out a long-suffering sigh.

“Yes, and no offense to your little village, but most of the people I’ve talked with couldn’t find their own homes if you painted them bright yellow. Now, off with the clothes.”   
Harry wanted to argue, to say that his people were much smarter than given credit, but he was hesitant to do so; if they were so smart, why couldn’t they see that he was innocent?

Flushing, he stood once more and did as instructed, reluctantly pulling off his tunic and tossing it to the side, leaving him bare for Mister Riddle. Mister Riddle nodded in approval and approached Harry, circling him slowly and Harry could feel the man’s eyes racking up and down his form. He jumped when he felt the man’s hand on his back, making him shiver at the warmth of his hands on Harry’s cool flesh. 

“What’s this?” Mister Riddle asked, his hands trailing up something on Harry’s back and making him shiver. “A mark of the devil?”

“A mark of my uncle’s anger,” Harry said blandly, remembering what scar he might have had on his back. It was likely from when his uncle had shoved into a farm tool and had resulted in him sliding along the blade, leaving a deep cut that had nearly killed him and a very large scar once it had healed.

Mister Riddle hummed, thankfully not commenting when he lifted his hand from Harry’s back. He let out a sigh of relief only to tense when the man circled him again, trailing his hand over Harry’s side as he did so and coming to rest in front of him. He tensed when Mister Riddle leaned close, his hand trailing up to poke Harry’s nipple.

“What’s this? Another devil mark?” Mister Riddle asked and Harry was not sure if the man was being serious or not.

“That’s my nipple,” Harry said, squirming when the man rubbed it. “Surely you’ve seen one before. You have two on your chest.”

To Harry’s relief, Mister Riddle snorted. “Funny. Good to see you haven’t lost your sass from earlier.”

He removed his hands from Harry and grabbed his cock with no warning, making Harry yelp in shock and jump. He attempted to move away only to be stopped by the man’s free hand grabbing his arm, keeping him in place.

“Oh, hush. You might be hiding your mark here and I need to be thorough with my investigation,”  Mister Riddle said, his hand gliding up Harry’s shaft and making him shudder, his hips giving a weak jerk that made him flush. 

“I doubt it would be there if I had one. Which I don’t,” Harry added quickly when Mister Riddle tilted his head in interest. The last thing he needed was the man to think he actually was a witch and make convection based on a false confession.

“Well, do try to control yourself while I check, then,” Mister Riddle said. Harry let out a quiet gasp when the man released his arm and squatted down, now level with Harry’s crotch. Harry squirmed when the man leaned a bit closer, investigating such a private part of him and trying very hard to ignore the warm breath on him. 

Did Mister Riddle really have to lean so close? He was sure if the man backed up a bit he would still be able to get a good view and he loathed himself for that thought. Instead, he focused on how decided unsexual this was, trying to will away his growing interested when Mister Riddle stroked him again. He wasn’t interested in men, most certainly not the one in front of him, and he wished he could relay that message to his dick. 

The man released him a moment later and stepped away, much to Harry’s relief. He looked at Harry for a moment, his hand coming up to rub his chin as he assessed Harry before he let out a loud snort. Harry started at the sound and stared at the man in confusion, who seemed to be very entertained for some reason.

“Alright.” Mister Riddle said, amusement coloring his tone as he settled back down into his chair. “I do believe this charade has gone on long enough. I know you’re not a witch. However, there is nothing stopping me from telling them that you are a one. They would believe me, wouldn’t they? I wonder what you can do for me to convince me otherwise.”

Harry’s jaw dropped, disbelief coloring his tone as he spoke, “What?”

“I know you’re not a witch. They don’t exist; the church made them up as a way to thin out the population in poor towns. And then you have people like me, who feed into the propaganda and make a profit out of it all. Of course, I’m not just swindling the townsfolk out of money.”

Harry felt his stomach twist at the look Riddle gave him, the predatory movement of his eyes from the tips of Harry’s hair down to his toes, then back up again, lingering on his crotch. He self-consciously covered it with his hands. “So, what? You come into town, accuse an innocent person of witchcraft, and then that’s it?

“The people I send to the fire are not innocent. They all were guilty of something; theft, murder, infidelity. You don’t get an accusation of witchcraft thrown at you for no reason and burning is far more merciful than what their village would have done to them.” Riddle said, taking a sip of his wine. “Of course, there’s always something they can do for me to get off the hook.”

“So you have sex with them?” Harry spat, his face twisting. “Regardless if they are male or female? And they do it?”

“If they want to live, they do,” Riddle said, tilting his head towards Harry. “Do you want to live, Harry? Or is your pride too strong for you to submit to another?”

“It’s a sin.”

“So is being a witch.”

Harry felt disgust pool in his stomach, his face turning red. If he wanted to live, he would have to let this man fuck him? Could he do this? Could he allow himself to violated, to commit a sin against God, just so that he could live to see the next day? Would he be able to live with himself if he let that happen?

“You can refuse,” Riddle said, drawing Harry from his thoughts. “I can call the Reverend and let him know that you are indeed a witch. They’ll take you back to your cell and burn you in the morning. Or they might not even wait until then.”

“…I could always tell them what you asked me, let them know that you’re a sodomite and a fraud,” Harry said.

“They won’t believe you,” Tom said, tilting his head. “A witch heading to the fire, trying to smear the name of the man who accused him. Such a dreadful creature, trying to drag others down with it. Would you believe them?”

He wouldn’t. He would call the accused a liar, disgusting for trying to ruin someone’s good name, just to save their own skin. He knew the people in his village would do the same.

“…Okay.” Harry said, finally letting his hands fall from his crotch. “I’ll have- I don’t want to die. And you promise you’ll tell them I’m not a witch?”

“Of course.” Riddle purred, licking his lips as he took in the sight of Harry. He patted his lap. “Come over here.”

Harry didn’t want to get anywhere near the man again but he reluctantly approached, making Riddle smirk.

“Oh, don’t be like that. I’m not going to hurt you. In fact, I think you’ll enjoy yourself.” Riddle assured him, his hands resting Harry’s hips, digging into the flesh there and earning a hiss as he pulled Harry onto his lap.

Harry tensed when the hands strayed from his hips up to his sides, making him squirm at the ticklish feeling of his hands on Harry’s ribs. “I’ll take that wine now.”

Mister Riddle laughed at that, his fingers trailing over and pinching one of Harry’s nipples, making him suck in a breath as he rolled the bud between the pads of his fingers. It was a bit painful but also very pleasurable and he found himself reluctantly relaxing, his hands coming up to steady himself on Mister Riddle’s shoulder. He let out a low moan when the man leaned forward, licking the other bud and sucking it into his mouth.

It was arousing, despite what he told himself, and he found himself arching into the older man, moaning and groaning in both pleasure and pain as the man bit him. Mister Riddle smirked at that, licking on the bud as if to apologize and pulling away.

Mister Riddle reached behind him and grabbed the wine glass, handing it to Harry who eagerly began to drink from it. It didn’t do much to calm his nerves, especially when the man’s hands had crept down his body once more, idly rubbing at the skin just above his crotch and making Harry sputter in his drink.

“Once you’re done, get on your knees.” 

Harry nodded and finished his drink, setting it on the table behind him and hesitantly sliding from Mister Riddle’s lap, onto the floor below. The man smirked at him, reaching down to undo his belt and Harry felt his breathing pick up, panic beginning to set in as Mister Riddle managed to wiggle out of pants without actually standing and tossed them behind him, leaving his lower half bare before Harry. Harry thought it was a bit strange that the man didn’t want to get completely undressed, but was too busy focusing on the cock in front of him to worry too much about it, which was worryingly soft.

He had never sucked a cock before or even had his own sucked, let alone seen another man’s cock, and he felt a bit lost. He did what his mind told him to do, what he thought would feel good if he was on the receiving end, and wrapped his hand around the man’s cock. He gave an experimental pump and was rewarded with a small hum. Deciding that it was, he gave another pump, feeling a bit more confident when the man thrust up into his palm, his cock twitching to life.

It was a bit hard to move his hand and he could imagine that the skin on skin contact could not have been entirely pleasant. He paused in his movements and moved forward before he could properly think about what he was doing, his tongue darting out to lick the man’s cock and earning a loud moan. 

It didn’t taste bad, he conceded, licking the head again, a bit salty and kind of musky, but not the worst thing that had ever been in his mouth. He supposed he could do this if he didn’t think about it too much. And he did just that, allowing his mind to go blank as he licked the man’s cock once more, dragging his tongue up the shaft and hesitantly pulling the head into his mouth, sucking lightly. 

Mister Riddle moaned louder than before and he felt hands on his hair, dragging him further down onto the man’s cock. He tensed, half expecting the man to try and choke him, but Mister Riddle must have been in a merciful mood, releasing Harry before he forced too much of his cock into Harry’s mouth. Harry took the hint and sucked on what was in his mouth, rewarded with the strange sensation of feeling it harden in his mouth.

He sucked again and swirled the head with his tongue, his hand pumping what wasn’t in his mouth, the saliva that was dripping from his mouth making his hand glide much easier. If the moans above him were anything to go by, he was doing a very good job at this, even if his jaw was starting to hurt a bit from being forced open so wide. 

The hands returned to his head and he found his head being jerked back his hair, making him hiss in pain. Mister Riddle just smirked at him, releasing one hand from Harry’s head to rub at the drool on his chin.

“Lay on the table,” Mister Riddle ordered and Harry gulped, hesitantly obeying. This was the part he had been dreading, adjusting himself on the table to be as comfortable as he could on the wooden surface, spreading his legs a bit. He had never slept with another man before—it was a sin—and he just hoped the other knew what he was doing. If he had done this as much as he had implied, he was sure to have picked up a few tricks on how to not make it unbearable for Harry; he was sure, that no matter what, it was not going to be as pleasurable for him as it was the other man.

He was a bit surprised when the older man slid his legs together again and climbed on top of him, his legs on either side of Harry’s hips as the man straddled him. He sucked in a breath when Mister Riddle grabbed his cock, giving a few languid strokes and spreading oil—where he had gotten that, Harry didn’t know— along his cock. Once he was satisfied, he grabbed the base and raise himself up before sitting down on Harry’s cock, earning a groan form both of them.

“I told you you would enjoy this,” Mister Riddle breathed, wiggling his hips slightly and making Harry groan at the feeling. “Make this good for me and I might not tell them you’re a witch.”

“Might not tell?” Harry managed to gasp out, squirming under the man and surprised when Mister Riddle moaned loudly. He resisted the urge to look, not wanting to see what he was doing, to see his sin against God.

“Might not,” he said airily, something that worried Harry greatly. The thought was quickly forgotten when the older man adjusted himself again, his hands resting on Harry’s chest for balance as he raised his hips. He hovered above Harry for a moment, his cock only half inside Riddle—he was sure they were way past formalities now—before he dropped back down, rolling his hips and making Harry groan.

Riddle was tight, almost unbearably so, and Harry found it hard to believe the other had done this before. However, the confidence in his motions and the experience of each roll of his hips, brushing against something within the other that made him moan and jerk in pleasure, said otherwise. 

“God, you’re so big. Probably the biggest I’ve had.” Riddle groaned and Harry unwilling found his eyes straying to the man on top of him. “You should see yourself now. You’re wrecked already and we haven’t even gotten started.”

The man was quite a sight as well and Harry in awe. He was definitely enjoying himself, his lips almost curled up into a smile as he rode Harry almost desperately, his body starting to take on a light sheen of sweat and muscles quivering under the effort. He wondered if the man used to such physical activity, seeing as he was working very hard and suddenly stopped with a huff.

“This is tiring,” Riddle stated simply, pulling himself off of Harry completely and slipping off the table, standing once more. Harry felt fear creep up his spin, afraid that he had offended the man or had not been good enough, only to be shocked when the man grabbed his wrists and pulled him up as well. 

“Get up. We’re doing this another way.” Riddle said and Harry hastily obeyed, slipping off the table. He allowed himself to be manhandled into the position Riddle saw fit, allowing himself to be maneuvered behind the older man. There was a moment where he stood a bit dumbfounded, his erection throbbing painfully as the man bent himself over the table and wiggled his ass at Harry, a silent invitation. 

Harry found himself wanting to enjoy the view for just a moment longer—he had no idea a stretched hole could look so tempting—but was still eager to obey. He moved forward, guiding himself back into Riddle and sliding in easily, making them both moan at the feeling, beginning to rock gently into the man.

In this position, he had more power and control and he found himself loving it, his hands wrapping around Riddle’s waist for leverage as he thrust into him. The other didn’t seem to mind, moaning like a whore as Harry thrust into him, letting out a small scream when Harry managed to find that spot within that the man that made him arch into Harry. 

It was exhilarating, watching Riddle’s hands dig into the table with each of Harry’s thrusts and feeling him squeeze around Harry, making him tighter than he already was. He was being so loud, moaning and rocking back against each of Harry’s thrusts, arching his back into Harry. He had a much better view now and he could see his cock disappearing and out of Riddle’s body, something that excited him more than it should.

It was at that moment that his shirt rode a bit higher up, revealing the lower half of his back and something very dark there. Curious but unwilling to stop his thrusts, Harry released one of Riddle’s hips to trail over his ass to deliver a harsh slap. Riddle jumped a bit and Harry took the opportunity to shove Riddle’s shirt up his back, freezing at what he found.

A skull, resting perfectly between his shoulder blades, with a snake coming out of its open mouth and down Riddle’s spin, curling down into a figure eight. It was darkly colored, the candlelight catching parts of it to make it shine green and, to his growing dread, the snake moved, curling a bit as it raised its head as though to strike at Harry. He was both horrified and mesmerized, his hand coming up to slide along the length of it, feeling the unnatural warmth and raised skin beneath his fingertips. Riddle moaned beneath him, arching into his touch, and Harry ripped his hand away.

“You’re a witch!” Harry spat, attempting to pull away, long forgotten disgust and fear rising back within him, but felt himself unable to, his limbs refusing to cooperate with him.

It was then that Riddle laughed, sitting up as best he could with Harry still inside of him. He leaned a bit forward and pulled his shirt the rest of the way off, tossing it haphazardly to the side and shifting a bit more. His head turned to speak directly into Harry’s ear, the mark burning where it made contact with Harry’s skin and the man—witch’s—breath tickling his ear.

“Never said I wasn’t.” Riddle moaned, grinding back against Harry and earning a hiss. “And are you really trying to leave? All I have to do is scream and the whole village will come running. And when they see us like this, I can say that you put me under your spell, bewitched me, charmed me into doing this for you. It will be your death sentence.”

“Your mark.” Harry hissed as Riddle licked his ear, nibbling on the appendage. “They’ll see it. You can’t hide it.”

“What mark?”

Harry looked back and, to his horror, Riddle’s skin was bare. The mark of the witch was gone, leaving on the smooth expanse of his back, still unnaturally pale in the light.

“What-” He was cut off when Riddle squeezed around him, pleasure shooting through him and causing him to hiss.

“A real witch wouldn’t be so foolish as to leave their mark so out in the open.” Riddle smirked. “Why do you think none of us real witches have been caught yet?”

“I’ll have you hanged.” Harry hissed, feeling Riddle’s body tense beneath him. However, he relaxed, smirking at Harry.

“Not if you burn first.” Harry felt like a bucket of ice had been poured over him and Riddle smirked, placing a small kiss on Harry’s cheek as his other hand patted the other one. “Now, get to moving, big boy. Or I can yell and have them catch us in the act. How do you think this would look on you?”

Harry glared at the back of man’s head as he leaned back down, stretching out over the table as the mark returned and wiggling his hips against Harry’s. Harry grabbed his hips again, almost forcing the man further onto the table and earning a hiss of pain when the other’s hip knocked into the edge. 

“Fine,  _ Witch _ , I’ll make it so good you’ll be crying at the end,” Harry said confidently, beginning to thrust into Riddle as a much more brutal pace than before, earning a loud mewl for the efforts followed by a laugh.

“Doubtful,” Riddle sang, trailing off into a loud moan when Harry managed to find that spot again and angled his thrusts, assaulting it much more than before.

He was rewarded with a shift in Riddle’s behavior, returning back to arching against Harry and mewling with every thrust. He could see Riddle’s hand sneak underneath himself, no doubt going for his cock. Harry intercepted, smacking Riddle’s hand away and grabbing the man’s cock, pumping it in time with his thrusts. He could feel how hard the man was and the increasing pitch of his moans told Harry he was very close to cumming. He noted, dully, that the snake on Riddle’s back was beginning to coil tighter, almost as wound up as the person whose flesh it resided on.

He wondered, given Riddle’s reaction earlier, what would happen if he touched it again, if it would be enough to push the man over the edge; despite his fear of the mark, he could find no fault in touching it again and did so, leaning down to lick at the body of the snake on Riddle’s spine. He was correct, feeling Riddle tense beneath him before letting out a low moan, feeling his cum coating Harry’s fingers as he pumped the man through his orgasm. He tightened around Harry, making Harry hiss and give one final thrust, cumming inside the other man. 

They both stayed there for a moment, panting and enjoying the glow of their orgasm. Harry pulled out after a moment, watching how his cum started to leak from the other and the snake on Riddle’s back seemed to curl back into its original position, more relaxed than when Harry had seen it.

Riddle stood up straight then and the high of his orgasm quickly wore off as the man turned, his eyes locking with Harry’s. Harry backed up then, not liking the look on the man’s face and managed to trip over the clothes on the floor, landing hard on the floor.

Riddle was on him at that moment, his hand clamping over Harry’s mouth before he could scream—not that it would do Harry any good—and a grin that would make the devil turn and run on his face.

“Oh, don’t think you’re getting out of this that easily,” Riddle said as he straddled Harry once more. “The night is still young and you haven’t fulfilled your promise of making me cry yet.”

*~*

The smell of burning flesh was always an unpleasant smell, one that Tom was sure he would never get used to. It was barely masked by the smell of the roaring fire and burning wood but was still very prominent. 

He supposed that it was time for him to leave, having already collected his payment and had gathered some raw meat for Nagini. The devil was not going to be pleased that he had to leave her alone for so long and he did not look forward to her incessant nagging, chastising him for not feeding her for so long. She should take the form of a cat instead of a snake, her demands for meat and milk far more reminiscent of a cat than the scaly form she currently took. It would also be easier to sneak her into towns with him; perhaps he should bring it up to her when they reunite. It would probably hurt a lot less too.

“He was innocent and you know it.” 

Tom paused in his ascension onto the horse, turning to face who had spoken to him. It was a woman, her hair the color of fire and her face contorted with rage. Tom immediately recognized her, the one Harry had supposedly bewitched, and he felt a smirk make its way onto his face.

“If you’re so sure, why did you not speak up?” Tom asked, ignoring the look of rage on her face as he leaped onto his horse, settling far too easily onto the seat to have been completely natural. “Or perhaps you are afraid you would have burned too? I hear it’s not a pleasant experience.”

“Why didn’t you say he was innocent?” she asked instead and Tom felt annoyance creep up his spine. Women, so irrational.

“Because the people demanded blood. It was either him or you at that point and I would rather not see one of my own go to the pyre to save a muggle.” Tom said simply, gently guiding his horse to turn towards the forest that led out of town. “If you wanted him to be saved so badly, why didn’t you do it yourself? There are plenty of spells you could have used, or are you too weak to conjure a simple fire-resistant charm?”

“I hope you burn in hell.” She hissed at him, so much venom in her tone that Tom couldn’t help but smiled.

“We all are going to, darling. I can’t wait to see you there.” With that, he dug his heels into the horse’s side and the creature broke out into a run down the path, leaving the real witch standing alone in rage and the smell of burning flesh behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> “What’s this? Another devil mark?” Mister Riddle asked and Harry could not help himself.  
> “Sir, that is my emotional support nipple,”   
> Tom slapped him. "Yeah, you're definitely a fucking witch."


End file.
